


Astral

by milleniumvalcon



Series: Skywalker Dynasty [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Adventure, F/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:21:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25808761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milleniumvalcon/pseuds/milleniumvalcon
Summary: Carson Baize has lived under several different names in her life - it's her way of escaping the several large bounties on her head. Her father always told her that she could never escape fate; that she could never truly stray away from the person she was born to be. It was a statement she vehemently tried to deny, one that she tried so hard to run away from. But, when she joins forces with a bounty hunter and a Wookiee, she ends up right where she needs to be. Fate has a funny way of working out.
Series: Skywalker Dynasty [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872352
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Astral

_**PROLOGUE - 18BBY** _

Carson Baize didn't like other human beings.

You could argue that not _all_ human beings were bad but her experiences with them so far had been less than stellar. She suspected it might have had something to do with the several large bounties on her head and the fact that she hadn't paid a single bill in a single cantina in the last five years; she had ways of getting by, though. Carson rarely went by the same name for more than a month, and she had a penchant for regularly switching ships. She hadn't stayed in the same place for more than a week since she'd left her home planet - it was a tiring way to live but it was the best way to stay alive. Plus, being in hyperspace six out of seven days a week made her a very hard person to find. 

She did have some company - namely, she had an old C3-unit. Carson had nicknamed the old protocol droid Rust, thanks to his squeaky joints and the orange tinge that had taken over his silver body over the last few years. If his main job was to irritate her, it was one he fulfilled nicely. She suspected that whoever owned him before her must have been pedantic and a little finicky; that was the only way to explain Rust's mannerisms. He _was_ good, however, for helping her find spaceports for supply runs and refueling. 

It was late on a Monday afternoon, and Rust had lead to a spaceport on Tatooine. The twin suns were hanging low in the sky, beating down on her bare arms as she trudged through the sand. She didn't have enough credits to book a proper docking bay, hence why she had dumped her current ship in the middle of some sandy plains. The landing had been less than professional but that was the whole point: she _wasn't_ a serious pilot. In fact, until her escape from her home planet, she hadn't flown a ship in her life. Everything that Carson knew about flying was simply from near-misses and near-death-experiences. It was probably a good thing that she lacked the ability to become attached to her ships, given how many she destroyed. 

'That wasn't your smoothest landing.' Rust commented. He was clunking along a few feet behind her. 

'Maybe _you_ should do it next time, then.' Carson shot back. 

'I don't know how to fly-'

'- so don't comment on mine, you tin can.' She cut him off. 'You just focus on finding us some fuel. I'll head by the cantina, see if there are any jobs going.' 

'With the bounties on your head, I'm not entirely sure that's a wise idea.' The droid warned. 

'Most of the bounties on me are much further back into the Outer Rims.' She said. 'We'll be _fiiiine.'_

Truthfully speaking, Carson wasn't _that_ sure that they were going to be _fiiine_. She knew that Tatooine was famous for the Hutt Crime Syndicate and for generally being - for lack of a better word - an absolute shithole. But, with her ship running low on fuel and food, she didn't really have much of a choice. The fact it was such a hotspot for crime meant that finding a job should have been easy. She usually went for simpler, low paying ones; overly complicated ones would often lead her to planets where people wanted her head on a stick. Her general rule of thumb was not to go for bounties that were bigger than the ones on _her_ head. It meant that she was usually broke but she earnt enough money to keep her going until she discovered what her life's greater purpose was. Whatever it was, she prayed it was better than this. 

Rust began to clank off in the opposite direction, her last few credits in his hands as he went off in search of fuel. Carson, meanwhile, set her sights on the cantina a few feet ahead. She had to mentally prepare herself for a moment. It was rare that she ever had good experiences in places like these - the men inside acted as though they had never seen a woman in their lives. At 5'1, Carson could usually slip inside with ease, pushing past the grabby patrons before they could spot her. She easily made it to the bar at the front, waving down the man behind the counter for the canister of beer. 

Across the room, Han Solo was sat in a booth with his own drink in hand. Unbeknownst to Carson, he had spotted her the minute she entered the bar. For somebody with such a large bounty on her head, he was thoroughly underwhelmed by her appearance. In the pictures he'd seen, she'd been wearing a beautiful, hand-crafted dress and her hair had been in intricate braids. Now,, she was wearing an oversized jacket - one which had been _clearly_ stolen - and her hair was in wild, blonde waves down her back. She had dirt on her face and her hand was a little too tight on her blaster. Still, it was undeniably Carson Baize - if he could get her, he'd have enough money to retire. 

'You see her, Chewy?' Han nudged his co-pilot. 'That's the Princess.'

By all intents and purposes, Carson was a princess. Specifically, she was Princess Carson Baize of the Planet Larcha - it was a title she'd always considered too much of a mouthful. It was also a title that came with all kinds of baggage, hence why she'd dropped it the minute she'd left Larcha. She figured that if she stopped being a Princess, she could also stop being a Jedi. And if she could stop being a Jedi, she could run away from the idea of being the entire Order's only hope. Part of her was still unable to forgive her father for leaving that mantle of _the chosen one_ on her shoulders. Had he not learnt from the last time? 

Carson didn't want to be the _chosen one_. She just wanted to be _Carson_ \- whoever that may be. 

'I know she doesn't look like much, pal.' Han replied to his friend's growls. 'But if we can get her, we can finally put those upgrades on the Falcon that you keep talking about.'

 _'And how are we supposed to do that?'_ Chewy roared.

'I've got this.' 

Han downed the last of his drink, slamming the glass back down on the table as he sauntered over to where Carson was stood. She was leant against the bar, a drink resting in her hand as her eyes scanned the room for potential clients - anyone who needed a bounty hunter or a smuggler was her main target. It had been days since she'd last properly eaten and she just needed enough credits for a meal, or maybe two. Worst case scenario, she would wait until the Cantina closed and then wait till they threw out their leftovers. It was galaxies away from the life she'd once had as a princess but for a taste of freedom, it was all worth it. 

Carson spotted Han almost immediately - it took her exactly three seconds to work out what his deal was. He wasn't interested in her. He was interested in what she was worth. If Solo had been a little taller or a little beefier, she _might_ have been intimidated. But, thanks to his cocky grin and overconfident swagger, she wasn't massively scared. What was he going to do? Shoot her in the middle of the Cantina? Kidnap her in broad daylight? 

Actually, on second thought - and having seen the state of the establishment - Carson wouldn't have been surprised if that was his play. The people they were surrounded by didn't seem like the type who would blink an eye at first degree murder. She'd seen much worse happen in cantinas around the galaxy and she wasn't prepared to fall victim to a bounty hunter's charm. The real test would be if he was immune to _hers_.

'Hey, handsome.' She placed her drink on the counter, gaze meeting Han's as he approached her. 

_'Hey, princess_.' Han gave her a charming smile. 'What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?'

'A girl like me?' Carson quirked her eyebrow. 

'You're too pretty to show your face here, no?'

'I'm on the run, you see.' She took a sip of her beer. 

'From who?'

Carson bit her lip, holding Han's gaze for a minute. 'People like _you_.'

A split second later - and before he could react - she raised her left hand and smacked him in the side of the jaw. He went reeling backwards, completely taken off guard by the sudden action. Before he could recover, Carson ripped his blaster from the holder on his leg, giving him a kick to the crotch. She turned on her heel, gun in her hand as she sprinted out of the cantina. In hindsight, it probably wasn't her smartest move. Tatooine had the hottest climate she'd ever had the displeasure of experiencing and trying to sprint through the sandy space port with two suns on her ass was not fun. 

Another thing that Carson hadn't considered was the fact she could not outrun a Wookiee. In fact, she hadn't even noticed the Wookiee until he was hot on her heels, roaring behind her as she skidded into an alleyway. She couldn't go too deep into the town on account for the fact she probably wouldn't have been able to find her way back. She couldn't leave without Rust either - he had the fuel. She was stuck here, hairy beast on her trail as she stumbled and skidded through the dusty town. 

Chewbacca easily caught up with her in a matter of minutes, leaping forward unto her and throwing her into a sand dune with an _oomf!_

Carson emerged a moment later, coughing and spluttering sand as she fought her way out from underneath Chewy. He ripped Han's blaster from her hand before standing up, deciding that she probably wasn't that much of a threat. Then again, Han had thought the same thing - and now he was limping and developing an almost impressive black eye. She could see the pink ring around his socket as he approached them, a scowl etched into his face. 

'That wasn't very princess like.' He commented. 'Cuff her up, Chewy.'

 _'Wait!'_ Carson tried to resist the Wookie's grip. 'Could you just hear me out?'

'That went out the window when you gave me a black eye, sweetheart.' He spat. 'That wasn't very princess like of you-'

'- I'm not the princess!' She cut him off. 'I mean...I _am_ the princess but only in theory.'

'In theory?' Han could barely hide the amusement in his voice. 'I don't give a kriff about theories. Facts are, you're worth a shit ton and I need credits.'

'They'll kill me.' Carson felt it might have been a bit too late to pull the pity card. 'Whatever the bounty is, I can get you ten times that by working with you. All that princess training has made me pretty tactile.'

He snorted derivatively, shaking his head. 'Nice try, kid, but that ain't gonna-'

'- I can pilot.' She said. 'I can shoot a blaster. I can flirt my way out of _any_ situation.'

'I wouldn't call punching me flirting.'

'I still got out the situation, didn't I?' She quirked her brow at him.

'Yeah, and into this one.' Han pointed out.

'And now I'm talking my way out of it.' She sat up, brushing some sand off of her trousers. 'What's your name?'

'Han Solo.'

'Do you believe in fate, Han Solo?'

'No.'

'Yeah, me neither.' Carson shook her head. 'So we'll call this a.... _coincidence_. We have just happened to have crossed paths when we're both in dire need of credits. I think we can help each other.'

Han snorted. 'What makes you think I need credits?'

'Why else would you go after a five-foot girl with such force?' She countered. 'We can help each other.'

'Fine.' He held his hands up in defence. 'You have a deal.'

'A deal?'

'You said you could get me ten times your worth in credits. Help me do that and I won't hand you over.'

Carson faltered slightly, but her confident demeanour returned a moment later. 'Wonderful.'

'Besides - pretty girls who can throw a punch? You might just be my type.' 


End file.
